Contemplations
by Fifitheflowertot
Summary: Draco contemplates his past with Hermione and abandons his Slytherin ideals to save her. Dramione. Non-canon. One shot.


He watched her trembling on the floor in front of him. Her once riotous curls lay lank across her forehead, sticking to the sweat and blood pooled around her. He had never seen her look smaller than she was now; curled up in a ball.

His deranged aunt cackled, ebony curls flying out around her and her eyes gleaming with pleasure, 'the mudblood says the sword is fake. What do you think Lucius?'

Mudblood. The first time he called her that was in their second year. It felt like eons ago. Her brash comment about his lack of Quidditch skills forced him to utter the most hateful word he could think of. His teammates laughed alongside him of course, but where were they now? Hiding out in France or Germany? Cowards.

He scoffed to himself, '_it's not like I can talk'._

A shrill scream brought him back to the present. She whimpered, 'It's fake. I told you I found it in a forest. It's fake!' Her once warm chocolate eyes looked empty, as if her spirit had been removed from the depths of her body. The dark circles under eyes and sallow skin caused his stomach to churn. This beautiful girl had been broken. His heart suddenly burned with hatred. Hatred towards his so called Lord, towards his parents, towards _her _parents for giving birth to her but he felt the most hatred towards himself, for not being able to do _anything_.

Her looked down at her sadly. There was a time when she looked glorious instead of this pitiful person. Her sleek brown hair _(numerous cans of Sleekeazy were used in this process I presume) _was clipped up in a sophisticated updo while her body was encased in a long black dress that clung to every delicious curve. Her make-up was light and natural, except for the bold red colour staining her lips.

Her already plump lips looked juicier as she chewed on them anxiously. He stood in the corner of the room in the shadows, watching, _memorising._

He saw her turn towards the approaching weasel and his mouth turned dry. The dress was completely backless. Her arms were gesturing in an exaggerated manner, which caused the muscles in her back to move fluidly. His eyes trailed down to the dip in her exposed back and continued the perusal of her backside and hips. His trousers suddenly felt tighter and his cheeks took on an uncharacteristic pink flush that stood out against his pale skin.

She hadn't always had that effect on him. In previous years she had always been the bucktooth know-it-all, best friend of The Boy Who Lived. He was too busy sauntering around school to notice the burning desire in her eyes to fit in with her peers. Girls avoided her due to her rather practical and opinionated nature and boys wouldn't bat an eyelash towards her. It changed in their fourth year.

Viktor Krum, world class seeker for the Bulgarian national team appeared to the Yule Ball with her on his arm. The school had one question on their mind, why her?

Fifth year was when boys began to actively seek her attention. She had an influx of people asking for help on their homework as an excuse to spend time with the brainy beauty. However, her two bodyguards silently prevented anyone from acting and so she spent her years romantically isolated. He would sometimes see her shuffling past, her head bowed as if she was trying to crawl into herself.

That's what she was trying to do now; disappear. His head began to throb and his heart felt like lead. She didn't deserve this. He never wanted this to happen to her.

_'Crucio'_

He cringed as her screams resonated within his eardrums. His eyes began to water and unfamiliar feeling welled up in his stomach. Guilt. He watched but didn't do a thing. _Coward, a bloody coward._

0o0o0o0o0o0

His mother glanced at him through the corner of her ice blue eyes. Her gut clenched involuntarily as shrill screams permeated the air. She inhaled deeply and focused on her son. Her beautiful little boy had grown up so much. He was no longer a scrawny child getting into trouble. He was a lean young man who held himself confidently. Which was why she became concerned after seeing him lean forward, covering his stormy eyes with platinum blonde hair in a nervous gesture. He was in pain. Mothers always know. Her frown deepened, watching the mudblood caused him pain.

Her motherly instincts cut in, 'Now Bella, the mudblood has said it is a fake. We all know lying is practically impossible under Crucio. It isn't called the torture curse for nothing'

'What are you talking about Cissy? Let her continue, the mudblood deserves it after all.' Lucius sneered from the sidelines.

'Wouldn't it be better to keep the girl alive as leverage for the Potter boy?' Narcissa's cold voice replied. She noticed her son's eyes widen slightly. 'The Dark Lord's priority is Potter and we have a chance to get him. Imagine the reward we would receive if we were the ones to hand him in.'

Lucius contemplated the idea silently while Narcissa glided across the floor, standing above the mudblood. She extended her leg slightly and the tip of her shoe prodded the body.

'It seems as though you have knocked her out cold.'

0o0o0o0o0o0

Everything hurt. The floor was hard and cold. Her head felt like it would explode. She took a deep breath and shifted slowly so she would end up on her back. Concrete bricks were all she could see. She sighed, _'dungeon.'_ Trust the Malfoy's to have a dungeon in their home.

She took inventory. Her arms were okay but still shaking due to the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. Her left leg was in working order but her right knee seemed to be causing a lot of pain. The kneecap was dislocated and there was no way it could be fixed without a wand. There was a cut on the left side of her jaw, which seemed too warm and rather sticky, it was most likely infected.

She sighed and turned her head to the left. _Mudblood._ Her eyes widened as she took in the obscene word etched into her arm. As if in a trance, her right hand came up and began scratched vigorously.

A door appeared to her right and her head snapped back to see who entered. Perfectly polished Italian leather shoes filled her field of vision. A pale hand shot out and grabbed her right arm, preventing her from scratching anymore.

She looked him straight in the eyes, 'let go'.

'No'.

She attempted to kick him, momentarily forgetting about her dislocated knee. She cried out and her eyes watered due to the sheer pain.

'Stay still. Please,' he asked firmly with a touch of desperation.

She complied bitterly, closing her eyes and dreaming of a distant life. Her parents were watching the television and laughing together while she was curled up with a book in her lap. The fireplace offered warmth and her eyes began to droop; the call of sleep was irresistible.

A tear escaped and almost as soon as it did, a pale finger wiped it away. It was there for a split second but her skin continued to tingle. She craved a human's touch, warmth and comfort. To be told everything is going to be alright.

More tears began to fall and this time they continued to pour down her grimy face.

'Please stop' his voice whispered.

She had never heard him use such a gentle tone before. Her glistening eyes opened slowly and looked up blankly to see grey eyes stare down, they seemed to go on forever.

Her finger rose up and tapped the area in between his eyes. He flinched slightly but remained kneeing beside her. He wondered why she was staring up at him like that, like he would… _save her._

He leaned back and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He heard a slapping noise and her arm fell back to the ground. He needed to focus, he came here for a reason after all, 'where are you hurt?' His eyes were solid with determination.

She simply looked up at him with sad brown eyes, 'everywhere.'

He opened his mouth, as if to say something but shut it just as quickly.

'Just kill me please. Before they do.'

His eyes widened, not expecting that hopeless response. He sighed and decided to take a look himself. He healed the self-inflicted scratches and made sure her fingernails were trimmed neatly, not trusting her mental state. Next was the cut on her jaw, which he healed with a quick spell. He lifted her head up and ran his fingers over her scalp checking for any head injuries that could lead to something potentially fatal, visibly sighing when he found nothing.

'My right knee,' her small voice asked, much more meekly than usual.

He looked down at her and nodded sharply, shifting to kneel beside her legs. He gently moved her trousers up and flinched at the sight. The kneecap was visibly out of place and her leg looked grotesque.

'Do you know any spell to… you know… fix it?', he asked, trying not to gag at the sight. He'd always had a weak stomach and was glad no one asked him to carry out the usual sadistic tasks that Death Eaters were given. He was content in the background cleaning up other people's messes.

'_Brackium Emendo_'

He frowned, 'I thought that removed your bones. Like Lockhart did to Potter.'

'Lockhart was an idiot who didn't know up from down. He did the spell wrong.' her know-it-all voice made an appearance, albeit a rather weak one.

He lifted his wand and cut through the air whilst reciting the spell. Her kneecap slid into place with a sharp crack, which was combined with Hermione's loud cry. Her eyes watered slightly but she made no more noise after that. He cast a calming spell over her and she instantly relaxed, a warm glow engulfing her.

Her eyes fell shut and a small smile graced her lips, 'Thank you.'

Draco swept his fingers over her forehead, moving her dirty hair away from her face. He made an impulsive decision; leaning down, he placed a soft chaste kiss on her nose, which wrinkled softly in response.

'I'll find a way for them to save you. I promise'.

She made no reply, already fast asleep.

0o0o0o0o0o0

'Draco Malfoy, you have been pardoned from all crimes committed whilst under the command of Voldemort. Court is adjourned.'

Draco sighed in relief but a feeling of dread welled up in his chest. This was only the beginning. He would face much more hatred from the general public for getting off without any punishment. He was the son of a Death Eater and became one himself for Merlin's sake. No one would accept him or take him seriously. His home had been taken, both of his parents were in Azkaban and he had nowhere to go.

'You must be relieved,' a familiar voice cut through his thoughts. He turned around to see the Boy-Who-Lived approach him. Draco shifted on his feet, looking slightly nervous.

Potter mirrored his discomfort and hesitantly began speaking, 'I… umm… I wanted to thank you. Hermione told us what you did. You helped her when we couldn't and for that you have my eternal gratitude. Not that this matters to you, but if you need anything, anything at all, just ask. You saved my best friend's life and for that, I owe you everything.'

Draco's mouth fell open but he composed himself quickly. He never would have expected that in a million years, especially from Potter. His bright green eyes were earnest and he looked at him as if he was the saviour of the bloody Wizarding World.

'You can stay at Grimmauld Place, you know, if you don't have anywhere else to stay. I'll be living there as well but I can stay out of your way if you want.' Potter continued to babble.

Draco nodded. 'That…' he cleared his throat, 'that would be… helpful. Thank you.'

Potter looked slightly taken aback, but smiled warmly and walked alongside him as they left the Ministry.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Draco had been living at Grimmauld Place for three weeks and had become comfortable around _Harry. _It had taken two and a half weeks for him to say Harry and it still made his skin crawl slightly. Six years of negative feelings didn't disappear straight away but he was adjusting.

Draco sighed in his cereal. Searching for a job was much more difficult than he imagined, even with Harry backing him all the way. It seemed even the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't stop the hatred that was coming his way. He sighed again, utterly depressed at the thought of living life as a shut-in.

'It sounds to me as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Someone your age shouldn't sigh that much.'

He dropped his spoon with a loud_ clank_ and shot out of his chair.

'H…hi,' he cursed his inability to form a coherent sentence. 'Harry never told me you were coming.'

She raised an eyebrow, 'you have a problem with me being here?'

'No! No! Of course not, umm… take a seat. Do you want anything to eat?' he shuffled around nervously.

She sat down directly across him and replied bluntly, in her usual no nonsense manner, 'no thanks.'

'Okay,' Draco sat down cautiously, unsure of why she was here. They hadn't met after the incident with his aunt and he was anxious to see how she would react.

'So, I've heard you've been looking for a job. I can imagine how difficult it must be,' she leaned forward, her elbows on the table and chin resting on her clasped hands. 'I'm starting a campaign to help werewolves. It would involve distributing the Wolfsbane potion, helping them adjust in society, finding jobs for them etcetera etcetera. I'd like you to help me. I'd pay you, of course.' She looked at him expectedly.

'Why?', he blurted out without thinking.

'You helped me when I needed it,' she shrugged, her bushy hair bouncing on her shoulders. 'Plus, you're smart. Not as smart as me obviously but still very intelligent.' She gave him a small smile.

He rolled his eyes and smirked, 'well, not everyone can memorise textbook upon textbook and then regurgitate on command.' His smirk was replaced with a tentative smile, 'I'd like to accept your offer.'

'You have a few days to decide, you don't need to make a decision now.'

'Don't need it. I accept.'

She cocked her head, 'you know, we'll be working in close quarters. I'll probably drive you barmy.'

Draco laughed softly, 'yeah you probably would. But I think I'll like it.'

'Masochist', she quipped.

'Sadist', he shot back just as fast.

They chuckled and soon fell silent. Hermione stood up and slipped into the chair beside him. She reached forward and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. Draco studied her hand; it was small and tanned, rough in some places, which he found he didn't mind. It made her more real.

'Thank you,' she whispered, gazing at him with her large brown eyes.

He tilted his head towards and whispered back, '_thank you'. _

**I didn't really know how to end it so it seems a little unfinished to me. But hey, it's done now :) I like nervous Draco for some reason, he's really cute so I'm sorry if he's a little OOC. I made him slightly more wimpy in this fic. Please review guys! Reviews are like cookies and rainbows - they make me so happy! Spread the love! :D**

**Fifitheflowertot x**


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